PROBLEMATIC

Chapter 2

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No doubt about it, Lula was problematic, and I knew I had to confront the issues and the impact of her involvement, especially her reactive, impulsive behaviour. After a couple of visits to the ER at St Francis, a place which I actively tried to avoid, I realised this situation with Lula was getting increasingly worse. It was escalating. However, sometimes being at the hospital was necessitated for precautionary x-rays. Most of the time, I was happy to let Bobby, the Rangeman medic, deal with my injuries, at Rangeman. Many of the scary situations and issues were provoked and inflamed by her volatile behaviour, despite having explained the game plan. Lula's attitude became more blasé and careless, often leaving me to deal with the fallout, after she fled the scene in her precious Firebird. Reckless was the way it was going. I had a gutful. Enough is enough. I had reached the point where I realised, I had to do something about it before I was more seriously injured, or, dare I say, that one of my skips gets the better of me and I could be killed. She didn't have my back, and, in this business, a partner should always have your back.

While tending to some of my wounds a couple of weeks ago, Bobby sincerely expressed his concern while he cleaned and dressed them. Tank and Lester came in to check on me, probably having seen me arrive, while viewing and checking the monitors, that I was injured, again. Blood on my shirt sleeve was a bit of a give-away sign, with the drips and blood stains down to my hand, since blood doesn't show on Rangeman black. It was Hector who came in next, looked me in the eye and made me understand how critical my association with Lula had become.

"Are you okay?" I nodded and they all looked relieved. "Lula is all about Lula, that's how she survived before as a Ho. Until Ramirez, when you saved her life, things changed. But, she has changed lately, like the time she starts work, how much she eats, always on your dollar, to how disrespectful she has become to you. She is jealous of you."

Oh. He saw it too. Trust my Hector to see it. Does he have a crystal ball? He is my protector.

"She is living vicariously through you, Beautiful, and it's getting scary the longer you remain working with her as your partner and sidekick. She doesn't take it seriously, certainly not the consequences. We see it. She is trying to emulate you while showing how she thinks the capture should go. It's a disaster waiting to happen. We don't trust her. Like Hector said, she has changed."

"Exactly, Bomber. Look at you now. Does Lula have any of these burns, cuts or scrapes?" Hanging my head down despondently, looking at my now cleaned and dressed wounds, I shook my head without answering. Bobby answered, "No. I didn't think so. She's like Teflon. It doesn't stick, because she either steps back and then doesn't stick around for the fallout, let alone for any support for you. She's a deserter. Deserters are despicable." Bobby was serious.

"Because she always disappears on you, abandoning you in some of those precarious and seedy neighbourhoods, that scares the shit out of us." Tank added. "She doesn't listen to your instructions when you are going in after a skip. We've seen it and frankly, she has become more than a liability. We are worried for you, Little Girl. It's getting to crisis point with her recklessness, all at your expense, and I am not talking about dollars here. I can give you a Rangeman partner if you need back up, especially for those trickier skips. Think about it. That you have used your panic button is a relief."

I had a lump in my throat as I heard their heartfelt observations and pleas, making it hard to swallow. Of course, they always had my back and I was no longer being defiant and stubborn about asking for help, or training. I knew my limits. I did use that panic button and I was grateful every time. I am resilient but I was not planning to be stupid in trying to prove a point. It was not worth the risk.

"Stephanie. If something was to happen to you, we, your Merry Men, your brothers, we would be broken. Ranger is in the wind and we promised to keep you safe. If we lose you, we lose that light you have brought into our lives. Like Ranger, we would all die inside. You mean a lot to us, Stephanie." Hector's words hit me to the core.

The growing lump in my throat made it harder to swallow. I couldn't stop my eyes from glistening up but I wasn't going to cry. It was the loving, unconditional support that blew me away. Other than from my father and Grandmother, Ranger and these wonderful men who made me feel worthy, all I got was mocking criticism and denigrating remarks from others. These were men of few words, but their words were emphatic, and the message was clear. I was important to them, just like they were important to me.

"Yes. So very much, you mean a lot to us," he iterated Hector's words. "You can't begin to imagine how important you are to all of us. You make us feel worthy and that sunshine you bring into our lives each day is immeasurable, Beautiful," Lester implored. I have never heard him so serious and sincere.

"Wow. Way to make a girl feel special," I said through glistening eyes. I had no idea how deep their feelings were. Was I stupidly that oblivious?

Tank answered my question making me wonder if I vocalised that at all. "No, you're not stupid at all, not even ignorant. But you need to know that you are so precious to us, we love you like a special little sister. We would go to great lengths to protect you, not because Ranger asked us to. We want to. We love you. We need you in our lives. We appreciate the remarkable difference you have made to our work place alone."

"To be honest, we are afraid to be alone, without you in our lives. Losing you would be more than heartbreaking. Since you came to Rangeman, you have made an immense difference to all of us, just by being you. You are family, part of our Rangeman Family." Bobby added quietly.

Okay, so a tear escaped. I tried to stop it. Hector gently swept it away and smiled.

"Each time you are endangered or hurt, or a car goes to car heaven, we lose control. Afterwards, we take it out on the bags in the gym, or go to the mats to de-stress. As a result, we have had to replace some of the bags. Yeah. It's taking a toll on me trying my best to keep from tearing the skin off my bones, don't you know. That goes for all of us who feel so close to you."

Wow. I was quite overwhelmed by their candour. I slid down from the bed where Bobby had me sitting to inspect my wounds. Hector hugged me, with an extra squeeze, "Preciosa, Stephanie, eres tan preciosa." (You are precious.)

"Si, eres tan precioso, hermanos," I replied, in my best Spanish. He grinned proudly at me.

"Thanks, Bobby." He just nodded with a wry smile. I know he was concerned. They all were.

Each of them checked my wounds and hugged me gently, leading me into the elevator and up to the breakroom. Their reassuring touches were very heartening. I felt blessed with these guys as my friends. My wounds were superficial, but Bobby insisted on treating them to avoid any infection. Thankfully I didn't need any stitches, just a couple of steri strips, some white dressings and a Band-Aid. No bandages. All this thanks to Rowan Harris when he pulled out his switchblade.

He had nicked my arm in a feeble attempt to scare me, so I tackled him to the ground, hence the grazes and some gravel rash, as I thumped the blade from his grip and showed him mine. He quickly acquiesced then, meekly apologised when he saw the blood on my arm. I rolled my eyes. That's what happens when you blindly slash a blade at someone. He was careless but at least the cut was not a deep one. Maybe it was the fierce glare from Hector behind me, as my back up, with his boot firmly planted on Rowan's switchblade, and that imposing body language that scared him. Hector, my protector, had taught me defensive knife skills, which paid dividends in this capture. I smiled as he nodded in pride. And Lula? She had vanished after Rowan threw rocks at her precious Firebird disappearing in a cloud of smoke once she saw the switchblade. Yeah. Great back up, Lula. That was the last time. Thank goodness I had already called for Rangeman back up earlier, as Tank suggested. Hector saw it all as he arrived on the scene and waited until I cuffed Rowan. He was not very happy with Rowan Harris. I noticed the angry growl as he watched Lula disappear from the scene, shaking his head in disgust.

I now see it all from a new perspective. Since that time, Lula is no longer my wingman. For the easier captures I go solo, keeping Tank apprised of my moves and my plan of action. We decide on strategies and when it would be advisable to have a Rangeman partner. Any night time reconnaissance must be with a partner. That was mandatory. We have progressed from back up, to a partner, rotating with a few of the guys.

I find myself spending more time at Rangeman, doing my research using their advanced search engines and now hold a part-time position. I still work for Vinnie, but spend less time there. I suggested that Lula be the new bond apprehension agent since she was so keen to "get them motherfuckers her way!", but just for the low bonds. Connie was not happy with that but understood where I was coming from, as she glared at Lula. Even Vinnie tried to plead with me but I told him how I hate being screwed over. I suggested he lay some ground rules with Lula because I was not available for mentoring her in the transition to full-time BEA, 'lay' being the pun word of the day. Not my problem. Lester beamed at me for standing my ground so firmly, opening the door for me as we left the Bonds Office. Connie winked at me, understanding written over her face.

"Damn Skippy! Move over Dog, the Bounty Hunter. I am gonna show ya how Lula does Trenton!"

Sassy with attitude. Jeez. She's going to need more than that as I rolled my eyes. Finesse, just like delicate, is also not in her vocabulary and certainly not in her repertoire for capture strategies. Lester and I held it together until we turned the corner in the SUV and lost it.

Vinnie was another problematic issue. Some of these miscreants should never have been bonded out. His partiality for gambling is definitely a contributing factor. Partiality? Pfft. It's more like an addiction, which seems to go hand in hand with his sex addiction. Eeuw. Wrong choice of words. Connie and I figured it out, that when the number of bonds increased, more than just incrementally, we knew he was getting desperate, probably deep in trouble with his debts. It was clearly evident that he especially increased the medium and higher bonds at these times. I'm sure Rangeman had it figured out. Vinnie was using funds to cover his debts. Harry the Hammer will not be pleased with his son-in-law. With all his mob experience, Harry was a shrewd man, but keeping his daughter happy is pivotal in his mind. But with Harry's mob connections, he was in just as deep, money laundering, with the Bonds Office often used as a front. But he was no slouch. He was a cunning man. Connie was mob wise, being in her own Familia, she recognised the symptoms. Yeah. And so it goes. Vinnie has inherited all that by default in marrying Lucille.

But Vinnie can't keep it in his pants, now with Lula as well. Silly man. Stupid, I say. Lula is a liability and has a big mouth. Yikes. Wrong word again! He'd better watch his ass. But, not my problem. He must like living on the edge since he also consorts with that she devil skank, Joyce, who sometimes moonlights as a bounty hunter. Finesse is not one of her features, prancing about in her wannabe red leather bounty hunter get up with high-heeled red boots. Seriously? A poacher in more ways than one. Vinnie likes her because she will do anything like the sexual deviants they both are. She has no morals. Vinnie has no taste. He doesn't discriminate. Skanks and ex-Hos. I don't even want to think about what else. Being a distant cousin on my father's side does not endear me to him at all.

Joyce was a huge pain in the ass. Joyce Barnhardt. I prefer to call her Barnyard or a fungus. She has been the bane of my life since kindy. She was a nasty bully, one of those typical mean girls and I was often her target, causing me pain, embarrassment and humiliation throughout my school years. Joyce was a sneaky, mean, little kid who lied and snitched. She spread rumours, stole boyfriends, alienated girlfriends, cheated on tests, and looked under the doors of stalls in the girls' room. In High School she morphed into a sex vampire. Eventually she lost weight, bought breasts, got lip injections, dyed her hair, and became a home-wrecker.

Now that she was grown up, she wasn't much different. No longer a fat pudgy girl, but tall with chemically enhanced red curls. It's hard to think which parts of her, if any, are still in their original form. She now stole husbands, still stole boyfriends, and jobs, cheating in every possible way.

I always thought of Joyce as a flesh-eating fungus. She'd been through more husbands than I could count. Three marriages, but no children, each more profitable than the last with a substantial divorce settlement.

Yes. She was problematic. I thought I had shaken her but alas that was not to be. My mother was mortified that I 'aired my dirty laundry' in the divorce from Dickie, AKA, Richard Orr Junior, up and coming lawyer, with eyes on a career in politics. I made enough noise to ruin whatever political aspirations he might have had. Our divorce was everything a divorce should be... reeking of outrage, filled with loud and lurid accusations. The rotten apple did not fall far from the Orr tree. It was his dirty laundry. Ha! He was a philanderer, a cheat and a liar. After catching him with Joyce on the dining table I was done. The ink had barely dried on our marriage certificate. Asshole. I'll never forget that smirk on Joyce's face as he fucked her on my dining room table. Bitch Barnyard, still a fungus. After the divorce, when lips loosened in my presence, I learned Dickie's infidelity had stretched far beyond Joyce Barnhardt. During the short tenure of our marriage Dickie had managed to screw half the women in my high school yearbook. Yes. Dickie, The Dick Orr, was also problematic. He and Joyce deserved each other. His career suffered, but Joyce was barely affected, moving on to her next wealthy conquest, or in between eager men, like Morelli, her regulars. Maybe they were her frequent flyers? Some men have no taste. More likely, it's that Joyce has no boundaries, for anything. Was that the appeal? I covered my ears as I sang the "La-la-la" song.

Later, Joyce decided to work as a bond enforcement agent, a BEA, but, of course, she would ruin her enhanced breasts doing the big bad bounty hunter routine. In the meantime, she stole everybody else's skips. She was definitely not a team player but we didn't stand a chance since Vinnie enabled her. Or was that empowered her? Whatever. It was a trade-off for her "special deeds" behind his closed office door, or wherever they met up. Connie really needed to order sanitising spray, or something. Thankfully, cleaning and sanitising did not come under her employment criteria. I heard her tell him to "Fuck off with that." I mentally washed my hands and shuddered.

The less I had to do with Vinnie the better. Vinnie plus Lula and Joyce was a dreadful cocktail. Yup. Not even going there. Hard pass. I wonder if the pharmacy has eye or brain scrubbing solutions in stock?

Connie Rosolli was okay. How she tolerated Vinnie's crap amazed me! I knew she had him by the short and curlies because he didn't dare to cross her. She was the Bonds Office Company office manager and junkyard dog. She's two years older than I am. A little smarter. A little tougher. A little more Italian. She's got a lot more chest, and she dresses like Betty Boop. I went to school with her younger sister Tina. In her role as office manager Connie was efficient, taking no grief from anyone, certainly not from Vinnie.

Connie was married once, but after the divorce she resumed her maiden name. She has connections, which Vinnie knows, another factor in keeping him in line with her. Jimmy "Curtains" is her uncle. Her uncle Lou was wheelman for Two Toes Garibaldi. It's rumoured that her Uncle Nunzo helped turn Jimmy Hoffa into a dump truck bumper. Her cousin Manny works at the junk yard. You never know when a junk yard can come in handy in their business. However, she would rather work for Vinnie than the Rosolli family. Go figure.

Connie always has her ear to the ground. I like Connie. I don't see her as a problem. She knows what's going on, nudge nudge, wink wink. We catch up for a coffee every now and then, her escape from the office, and especially from Vinnie.

At one stage I was somewhat wary of Connie, as she and Lula were thick as thieves. But Connie is smart, street smart, as is Lula. Lula was always pressing for details of my love life and I did not want to discuss it. It's private. But Lula always carried on trying to add gossip to the Burg Grapevine. Connie stepped back and told her to back off. She wasn't being part of that, even though she was curious. Respect. Connie had respect, Lula did not. Lula didn't care. She wanted to get the inside scoop to put herself in the spotlight. Connie set her straight, threatening to share some of Lula's promiscuities. "How did you know?" With that response, Lula with her indirect answer had revealed a nasty titbit. Connie sent her off to file and shut up.

That was that. Nice to have Connie in my corner. I appreciated that. It made the job tolerable.

So, Lula, Vinnie, Joyce and the Dick… Who else is on my Problematic list?

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